


Table for Two

by gabrielstolethetardis



Series: Destiel One-Shots [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Castiel/Dean Winchester One Shot, Customer Dean, Flirting, M/M, Waiter Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:44:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielstolethetardis/pseuds/gabrielstolethetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Le Cafe des Anges, Dean has his eye on a certain blue-eyed waiter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table for Two

Two plates, four coffee cups, and 10 glasses of water later, Dean ran out of reasons to hail over his waiter. His blue-eyed, black-haired, _very_ adorable waiter.

Dean leaned back in his chair casually, trying to locate the boy among the crowded tables of the café. Despite being a Wednesday night, Le Café des Anges was bursting with young couples and groups of women out for wine and baguettes—Dean, with his leather jacket, blue jeans, and general male-ness stood out to say the least. The first couple of nights, he’d received weird glances from both other customers and the workers. Now, he’d faded back into the background, just another face among hundreds of other people who filtered in and out of the café on any given night.

“Looking for somebody?” an amused voice commented from behind Dean.

A small smile rose to Dean’s lips. “Oh, no one in particular,” he teased as the blue-eyed boy rounded his table and stood in front of Dean, one slender hand coming to rest on the white tablecloth. “However,” he continued, straightening in his ornate wire chair, “since you’re here—”

“Is it coffee this time?” the boy interrupted, grinning like he knew some secret that Dean didn’t. “Oh, wait.” He held up a finger and then dug a pen and a pad of paper out of the apron tied around his waist, scribbling something down quickly. “One order of crepes, coming right up.” He tucked the pad back in the apron pocket, giving Dean a long-lashed wink before disappearing back in the direction of the kitchen.

Dean blew air out between his teeth. “Damn,” he whistled under his breath.

Like clockwork, the boy returned in five minutes with a heaping plate of crepes, setting it in front of Dean with a flourish. “Honestly, I don’t know where you put that all,” he said, glancing pointedly at Dean’s flat stomach. “A plate of crepes each day, and you still look like that.”

“ _That_?” Dean hedged. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific. Did you mean ‘sexy’? Or maybe ‘unbelievably attractive’?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Here’s your bill,” he grumbled, but Dean saw the faint outline of a smile on his lips before he turned and moved on to the next table.

Dean glanced at the dollar amount and then sighed, digging a fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket. Damn, flirting with this kid was getting expensive. He’d have to haggle Sam into getting a job—God knew his little brother could use some time away from Jess. If they spent any more of their day together, they’d be practically attached at the hip.

Dean signed his name on the bottom of the bill. Then, with a predatory smile, he scrawled an eight-digit number just below his name along with the words _Call me sometime, angel boy_ in his sloppy handwriting. Dean pushed his chair back and exited the café, flashing the blue-eyed boy a smile as he passed him.

Not one minute later, Dean’s cell phone buzzed. “You don’t waste any time,” he joked as soon as the phone was up to his ear, and a familiar voice on the other end chuckled.

“I get off in a few minutes,” the boy said, which Dean already knew, of course. “What do you say we get dinner somewhere? That is, if you still have room after _3 plates_ of food.”

Dean chuckled. “I’ll make room.”

“Awesome.” There was a rustling sound. “I know this _great_ place—the best crepes in town. Oh, and the wait staff is absolutely brilliant.”

Dean grinned. “I’ll be right there.” He began to walk, the phone still pressed to his ear. “By the way,” he said, navigating through the throngs of people on the sidewalks, “I need something else to call you besides _angel boy_. Maybe a name?”

The boy on the other end laughed, and Dean heard a click. He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the CALL ENDED button in confusion.

“Castiel,” a voice said, and Dean stopped just in time to keep from running into the blue-eyed boy who’d just stepped out from nowhere into his path. One corner of his mouth turned up, and his eyes lit up with amusement. “My name is Castiel.”

Dean held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Cas.”

Castiel’s grin practically split his face in half. He took Dean’s hand, his fingers winding around Dean’s, and shook once. “Nice to meet you too, Dean. Officially.”

Dean huffed out a breathy laugh, half-amusement, half-embarrassment. Without letting go of each other’s hand, they crossed the street to Le Café des Anges, and for the first time, when the hostess asked him with a pleasant smile, “For how many?” he responded with, “Table for two, please.”


End file.
